Tarnished Chapter 5 (Patreon)

As John approached the broken train car, he got a few odd looks from the people milling around outside. It seems people had been curious about what he was up to. The only person to approach him was the same worker from before.

As soon as the older man spotted the full box of dynamite John was carrying, he stopped in his tracks. “…Um. Two sticks would have been enough.” The man said, trying to keep his voice quiet.

“You ever blow up a train car before?” John asked as he walked past the stationary man.

“No… H- Have you?” the man asked as he turned to follow him.

“Can’t say as I have,” John responded, keeping his tone casual. This guy's overly helpful nature triggered all kinds of warnings in his mind. It could just be he was a genuinely helpful person but John doubted that. He could count on one hand the truly helpful people he had met in his lifetime. So at best, this man was sent by Daniel to keep an eye on him, at worst, he was a plant by the now-dead outlaws. Either way, he was gonna keep an eye on him.

The man stood back a good ten feet as John set the crate inside the broken part of the train and then hopped aboard before picking it up again.

“You mentioned stacking logs underneath the train car?”

“I did.”

“What for?” John asked as he looked for the best place to set the explosives.

“To prevent the tracks from getting damaged.”

“Good. Gather some workers and get it done. I don’t want to have to mess with this stuff any more than I have to.”

The man nodded reluctantly before jogging off. This would be a good test to see if the man would help or hamper his attempt to get the train moving.

Turns out the man had helped.

By the time the logs were stacked, the sun had begun to set and the conductor had confirmed the train engine was back in working condition. He had them move it as far along the track as they could. Which was not nearly as far as he would have liked thanks to the elevation rising as the track exited the valley, but it was better than it was before.

All of the passengers were huddled in front of the train engine and away from possible shrapnel while John made his way to the tree line. A very confused Jacob – that was the name of the worker who had informed him about the dynamite – had followed him. Which was weird. It was another tick in the ‘spy for Daniel’ column in his mind.

“Why have we come out here, Sir?” The man asked in confusion.

“Would you have preferred to light the dynamite from next to the train car?”

The man shook his head. “Certainly there were extra fuses inside the last car?”

“If there were, I didn’t see any.”

“…So then, how-,”

“Like this.” John gestured for the man to get behind a nearby tree and he did the same before leveling his pistol at the broken opening.

He could barely make out the box sitting in the center of the car from here, but it was clear enough. There was a small chance a direct impact could set off the explosives, but he wasn’t willing to risk something so silly. If that failed, he wasn’t going near that box or that car ever again. So he had rigged up a broken piece of lamp.

The lamps had convenient flint sticks for lighting as well as plenty of oil. He adjusted his aim to the top of the crate where the broken lamp had been placed. For anyone else, this would likely be an impossible shot. For him, it was just a really difficult one.

John took in a slow breath and let it out. His focus narrowed and it was like the target grew closer. With the next breath, he held it and softly squeezed the trigger. The revolver barked in his hand and a moment later, he saw a small spark erupt from inside the train.

There was a whoosh of fire as the oil ignited only for the fire to be blown out a moment later when the dynamite below it detonated in a spectacular boom.

A rush of hot air blasted past them, but John had ducked behind the tree. He could hear bits of the train car crashing to the ground. Some of the smaller pieces had even made it to the trees as little chunks of wood fell all around them. He glanced over at Jacob who was hunched over, covering his head and ears. The man wasn’t cowering in fear, just taking precautions to avoid injury. The man was smarter than John originally gave him credit for.

After the hail of debris stopped, the pair walked back toward the train car, or at least what was left of it. People were already approaching from the engine to see if his plan had worked.

It did appear to have separated the car into two halves. If you could call what remained half. The entire wooden structure above the bet had been obliterated by the blast, leaving only the two sets of wheels and a bit of twisted steel in its place

“I guess you were right,” John acknowledged. “A few sticks would have been sufficient.”

Jacob didn’t reply, he only stared at the remnants of the train for a moment before hurrying off to gather the workers.

Although it wasn’t without effort, they had more than enough people now to leverage the remains from the track. By then night had fallen and the timbers used to protect the track had been used to make a bonfire to ward off the chill of night and provide enough light to finish their work.

When the car was finally pushed away the conductors had to inspect the track to make sure it was passable. Some damage had been done to it despite their best efforts. But the workers had been able to move it back into place and reset the ties.

From there it was a simple effort of reattaching the caboose and backing down the valley to gain some speed to cross over the next hill.

The last remaining car was a bit cramped, but John was exempt from that. He simply slept in the caboose among the luggage. Nobody bothered him for the rest of the trip.

***

A day and a half later, the train rolled into Ember Creek, a bit worse for wear and one car shy, but it had arrived.

John stepped from the train, expecting someone to meet him. But all he could see were grumbling passengers as they disembarked. The conductor and engineer seemed to be responsible for luggage on this end of their stop as they slid open the side door and started passing bags and trunks out to waiting people.

The passengers were grumpy after the whole ordeal, and it was no surprise. The train wasn’t equipped with any amenities except one small wash closet. Even food wasn’t provided. Most were forced to bring their own water and food in the form of hardtack or dried meat. The rest ate and drank at the three stops the train made before the last leg of the trip west. And that would have been enough if they hadn’t been delayed by almost a full day. Most had run out of food and water shortly before the train got moving again. Even John only had a single piece of jerky left in his pack.

But that was life. Instead of complaining, the people simply grabbed their luggage and made their way to worker housing or the local hotel.

John had gotten a good look at the town as they crested the last small hill that led to the enormous valley. Ember Creek was bigger than he had expected. With dozens of simple wooden buildings gathered around either side of a small rocky stream. He instantly recognized why they named the place Ember Creek. The rocks of the stream seemed to glow orange in the early morning light, making the steam look like a bed of cooling ash.

He wasn’t much of an outdoorsman, but even John could appreciate the rugged beauty of this area. The valley where the town was nestled was surrounded by small forested foothills interspersed with jagged outcroppings of grey rock. It was an ideal place to set up a town as it was a large flat area, probably the last of its size before the area turned more rugged.

After waiting ten minutes, and nobody arriving to greet him, John grew annoyed. Even that overly helpful worker, Jacob, had gone.

With strength that belied his size, John grabbed the handle of his trunk and hefted it behind his shoulder. The few remaining passengers got out of his way as he tromped across the platform and down the steps.

The letter had said someone would meet him at the train to take custody of the items in the final car. All he had was a name and title, but that was enough. With an annoyed frown, John went to find this foreman.

It didn’t take John long to find the foreman’s building. There was a little barred window at the front that was currently locked. The sign on the window simply said closed.

He ignored the little window and went around to a thick wooden door off to the side. The building reminded John of a bank, except less inviting. The ground floor held no windows except the one with the sign, but the second story did. And John had seen light flickering inside one as he approached.

He tried the handle on the door, but it was clearly locked. Then he knocked and waited.

When there was no response from the person above, he knocked a bit more forcefully. Still, the person ignored him. He knew they had heard him because even people across the street were looking his way now.

John was about to pull out his revolver and shoot the lock off when he heard an annoyed pounding of feet from inside. The barred window opened and a portly fellow with glasses appeared.

“Can’t you read? We’re closed!”

John set his trunk down on the porch, causing it to shake and dust to billow up from under the disturbed boards. He would have preferred to drop it and have it crash through the floor but he didn’t want to risk damaging his stuff. Then he walked over to the window where the man was glaring at him.

Instead of answering the man, John asked his own question. “Are you the foreman?”

“I guess that answers my question. Who the hell else would I be?”

“Frederick Thumb?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s asking?”

“I am,” John deadpanned.

The man scoffed. “And who are you? Just another vagrant looking for work?”

Before the man could react, John reached through the opening and yanked the foreman tight against the bars. “I’m John Smith. And Mr. Novarez told you to meet me at the train station when it arrived. Why weren’t you there?”

The man spluttered, his entire tone shifting in an instant. “I- I’m sorry. When your train didn’t arrive yesterday, I thought it wouldn’t be coming.”

“Yet you heard it arriving, or are you deaf?”

“No, ah- I mean yes, but-,” John didn’t wait for whatever excuse this man was going to give him, he released his shirt and shoved him back.

“You have ten minutes to meet me at the train. Don’t make me have to come get you again. And secure my trunk inside. If it goes missing, I’m blaming you personally.” Then he strode off.

The man was surprisingly punctual after their little discussion. Showing up only eight minutes later with an armored cart attached to two tired-looking mules.

There were also two red-eyed guards along with the pudgy foreman. Despite the fact they looked to have been woken from a drunken stupor, the men took their surroundings in. The men did glance his way, but when they spotted his firearms they averted their eyes. Either they knew what he was or Frederick had informed them.

One of the men quickly loaded the money into the cart while the other kept watch. Frederick didn’t do anything other than go inside the car for a bit before standing next to John looking nervous.

“What?” John asked in annoyance as the man’s fidgeting was getting on his nerves.

“I didn’t want to bring this up… but there appears to be a box of dynamite missing.”

“We ran into an issue that required its use.”

John saw the man flick his gaze toward the flat car that held the walker before returning it to him. “Mr. Novarez is going to be very unhappy when he hears you opened the car before arrival.”

John turned toward the man, and simply stared at him, daring him to say something else stupid. The man swallowed before replying. “But I guess he doesn’t need to know.”

“That would be in your best interest,” John stated flatly.

The man smiled as sweat broke out on his forehead.

As the portly gentleman was wiping it away with a cloth, John asked a question. “Where are my accommodations?”